


split seconds

by spookykingdomstarlight



Category: Ocean's (Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Fake Dating Shenanigans, Banter, Bickering, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-16 10:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13051839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/pseuds/spookykingdomstarlight
Summary: The fact that it had taken him any hour to get back into Vegas proper was neither here nor there; that didn’t matter. And he wasn’t angry so much as concerned, because Rust always went along with Danny’s schemes. That was the point. Danny came up with shit to do and Rust made it happen. That’s what made them so great. It was, in fact, what made them the best.





	split seconds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kaydeefalls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaydeefalls/gifts).



Contrary to popular belief, Rusty didn’t always have something in his mouth, but the number of occasions where that was true could be counted on one hand and even then a snack was within reach. _I’ve got a condition_ , he’d said once, back when Danny still sometimes went by Daniel and Rusty still respected that fact. _I wouldn’t call the incessant need to clog your arteries a ‘condition,’ Rust_ , he’d said right back, earning himself a shit-eating grin and an hour’s worth of the silent treatment at a time when Danny would’ve rather clawed his own eyes out than sit in silence, a fact which Rust knew very well given Danny’s history of whining about stake-outs.

But the point was this: Danny wanted things. And Rust knew how to make them happen—and knew how to make the opposite happen, too, when Danny was stupid enough to forget the snacks.

Danny was an ideas man; Rust, now Rust was a genius at the logistics of the thing. He lived for shit like sitting in a car in the middle of the night just to figure out just the whens and wheres and whys. Even on the rainiest, coldest, worst nights Las Vegas had to offer—those nights when Nevada had to pretend it wasn’t just a bone-dry desert, but chose to prove it all on the one occasion. Rust would risk a flash flood to get the intel he wanted and that was fine.

He didn’t have to drag Danny down with him though.

And he didn’t have to do it with malicious silence stopping his tongue like he was doing now. Just to prove a point about conditions and the lack thereof.

Before they’d gotten back to their hotel room, it had been a long night.

“Stop thinking about the Callahan gig,” Rusty said, disapproving. He didn’t even do Danny the courtesy of glaring directly at him, no. Instead, he merely glared up at the ceiling of the one hotel room Rusty had gotten them— _it’s cheaper_ —his ankle swaying back and forth just off the end of the bed. His voice gave up more than enough of his annoyance, though, that the visual snap of Rust’s eyes on him didn’t particularly matter in conveying Rust’s feelings on the matter.

He was pissed. And maybe he had reason to be. Danny thought not, but it wasn’t Danny’s opinion that mattered.

Danny should’ve bought that pack of Oreos back in Albuquerque; it would’ve made all the difference now. Instead, they were at the mercy of slow-moving room service and Rust’s ability to control himself and not turn this into a reenactment of the Donner Party circa 1847 between now and the arrival of enough food to assuage his anger.

“I’m not thinking about the Callahan gig.”

“You’re thinking about the Callahan gig,” Rust repeated, like that would make it more true. “You think I don’t know, but I do. Some of us actually think through the consequences of our actions. _Some of us_ don’t do foolish shit because it makes for a better story. And some of us don’t change the plan without informing our partners first. At least we got something out of the Callahan gig. What good has this one done?”

Danny’s brows furrowed as he lifted his head from the armrest of the couch Rust had banished him to. “How many people are in on this job again?”

Now Rust’s eyes flashed. Danny couldn’t see it, but he could tell from the disgusted sigh Rust released, his chest rising and falling dramatically, that Danny was only making things worse, much worse, _gloriously_ worse. “One of us if one of us doesn’t shut our mouth.”

“When has shutting our mouths ever worked?”

Now, Rust did push himself up on his elbows, offering Danny an incredulous, baleful stare. “I wouldn’t know,” he said, tart. “I’ve never had the opportunity to witness such a miraculous thing. I’d probably die of shock.” With that, he fell back to the bed and threw his arm across his eyes. “Sometimes, Danny, I think I’m gonna strangle you and not a single member of the jury would convict me.”

Danny crossed his arms. “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”

Rust scoffed and said nothing further.

“So it’s not the snacks you’re mad about.”

“You wish I was mad about the snacks.” Rust paused. “Actually I’m mad about that, too. It was your turn.”

And this wasn’t how Danny wanted to spend his evening. Better to take all his lumps now instead of letting Rust berate him to death over Cheetos. “So I might’ve been thinking about the Callahan job.”

“I swear to God,” Rust answered, “if the next words out of your mouth aren’t ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘next time, I’ll tell you what I’m doing,’ I will walk out of this hotel room and leave you with the bill.”

“I’m sorry,” Danny said, more than a little dry. He meant it. He definitely meant it. No matter what else Rust might think, Danny never did like deceiving him. It was just that—sometimes, Danny couldn’t help it. “Next time, I’ll tell you what I’m doing.”

At that, Rust snorted, which Danny chose to take as a good sign. He was softening up. He always did. That was one of Danny’s favorite things about Rust. He could never stay mad at Danny. “And hey, it worked, didn’t it?” Danny smiled, self-satisfied. It had been a good con, one of their better drives. They’d certainly gotten what they needed out of it. “We all got what we wanted.”

“Not all of us.” And that was strange. By this time, Danny had usually prevailed over the worst of Rusty’s righteous fury, but the tight quality of his words suggested he wasn’t done being mad yet. Now Danny lifted his head completely from the back of the couch and looked—really, really looked—at Rusty. Insofar as he could anyway. His arm still covered his eyes and there was only so much information he could gather from this angle. Climbing to his feet, he walked toward the bed and peered down at his best friend, his partner, the one undefinable, undeniable good thing in his life.

“Rust,” he said, serious, more serious than he’d been in a long time. Because he hated the thought of Rusty being mad at him under the best of circumstances. Right now, that feeling was multiplied, twisted around, far too big for either of them to comfortably exist around. This room was too small for it. “I am sorry.”

Rust let his arm flop and he looked up at Danny, suspicious and intrigued all at once. “Really? You?”

“It’s been known to happen,” he answered, feigning a hurt he had no right to feel, “from time to time.” A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth, impossible to ignore, yet equally impossible to express. Rust really would make his life a living hell if he thought Danny was enjoying this too much. Or, well, if he _showed_ he was enjoying it too much.

They’d spent too much time together to not know exactly what the other was thinking. Rust might’ve been better at it than Danny, but Rust had always been a little preternaturally aware of Danny’s moods, foibles, and desires.

Most of them anyway.

He kept a very dangerous blind spot when it came to certain things. Sometimes Danny wondered if this wasn’t the root of problems like this.

He shouldn’t have presumed.

He absolutely should have told Rust.

He sat on the edge of the bed, passable as always, just the right amount of cushion—for Rust, at least. It was a little firm for Danny’s tastes. That was probably why Rust had chosen this place. He wanted to make a point and a quiet one at that. All it did to Danny was make fondness rush through him, a whole tumbling torrent of it. He brushed his hand across the thin, soft fabric of the comforter, allowed it to creep closer to Rust’s warm, welcoming body. He took it slow, watching to see if Rust would welcome his touch or not. He placed even odds on the possibility and waited with bated breath.

They didn’t do this, hadn’t done it really. But there was something about kissing the persona Rust had adopted for the length of the con—fake, just for the show of it, who knew pretending to be boyfriends could be useful?—that made Danny want to be daring.

Rust wouldn’t be mad if it didn’t hurt, right? And he wouldn’t want an apology if Danny couldn’t make it right.

He wanted to make it right. And he knew just how to do it. Or he hoped he did. Rust’s fury and betrayal didn’t make sense if one and one didn’t equal _has feelings for one Danny Ocean_.

“Room service should be coming any time,” he said, offhand, a distraction, a metaphorical card up his sleeve. He kept his voice even despite the need he now felt. To push, to surprise, to take chances, there was nothing better in the world. And it was just more risky with his best friend.

But nothing ventured, nothing gained.

“They’d better be.” Rusty sounded surly about that fact and Danny couldn’t help but be charmed by that fact. “I haven’t eaten in hours.”

“Poor you,” Danny said, close enough now that he could feel the heat emanating from Rust’s body. He’d always run a little hot. Danny wondered how he’d managed to resist this long. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

Rust narrowed his eyes, finally catching on. At least, Danny hoped he was catching on. This was about to go down as the most awkward seduction in the history of seductions if he didn’t. “I can think of something,” he answered, reaching for Danny’s hand and taking hold of it. He pulled Danny forward, forced him to half sprawl across Rust’s torso. “You’re still a complete jackass though.”

“I am,” he agreed, and happily so. “I really am.”

“You owe me breakfast,” Rust continued, repositioning himself and, in the process, Danny. Their mouths ended up tantalizingly close to one another and Danny wanted nothing more than to owe Rust breakfast and kiss him like he meant it. Which he did. He did, very much so. He’d meant it before, too, as more than just the roles they’d played, but he hadn’t really known it. Not until it was too late and Rust had already slapped him, doing exactly what Danny had hoped he would when he’d said, about five minutes before kissing him, that they had to pretend they were lovers, that they were fighting and Rust would know what to do when the time came. He did exactly what Danny wanted, creating the distraction Danny needed to ensure no one at that auction saw the rest of what Danny was doing. Though he’d expected the slap, he hadn’t expected the look of utter betrayal that followed it, the shock and anger. For a minute, Danny marveled. Rust was a far better actor than he’d given him credit for.

And then Rust had stormed away, leaving Danny to clean up the remnants of their con, and Danny still thought nothing had changed. Because this was exactly what he wanted Rust to do when he’d suggested it. On the fly like this, there was nothing for Rust to do besides get annoyed and huff off. When everyone around them, every bidder, looked Rust and Danny’s way instead of where they should’ve been looking, he’d known they’d succeeded. And he was fiercely, happily glad for that.

 _And then_ the car was gone with Rust in it and he knew that he’d caused a shit storm without knowing entirely why it was that Rust had disappeared.

Danny sometimes was an idiot.

The fact that it had taken him any hour to get back into Vegas proper was neither here nor there; that didn’t matter. And he wasn’t angry so much as concerned, because Rust always went along with Danny’s schemes. That was the point. Danny came up with shit to do and Rust made it happen. That’s what made them so great. It was, in fact, what made them the best.

“You were mad at me.” Danny said it almost as though it was a secret, a whisper for them and them alone. Danny couldn’t say he was unfamiliar with the experience; they’d been partners for a long time after all. But the sense of trepidation, of need, was new. He’d never wanted Rust to be mad at him more than he did right now. If only because it confirmed something he hadn’t dared to hope for. His fingertips brushed against the smooth, soft line of Rust’s jaw. He didn’t draw away. He did, on the other hand, draw in a deep, shaking breath. “You play things too close to the chest.”

“One of us has to,” he says, not bothering to deny it. But he looked up at Danny with something akin to wonder in his eyes, so whatever Danny had done wrong, he was righting it. And whatever Danny was doing, it made Rust’s eyes flutter shut, so Danny intended to keep doing it for as long as possible.

“Have you ever considered,” Danny paused, intent, “just telling me.”

Rust’s lips quirked at that suggestion. And for good reason. But there was a hint of something deeper there, something darker. As often as Rust complained about the chances Danny took, he wasn’t a fearful man. Which was why it took him so long to realize that was exactly what Danny saw in his eyes. “Where’s the fun in that?” he asked, finding the bravery to shrug off his own concerns and trust Danny not to break his heart into a thousand pieces.

Where was the fun in that, indeed? Danny wasn’t sure, but he thought maybe the avoidance of lost time might have been worth a little less fun. He didn’t say as much to Rust, however. He had better things to occupy his mouth with. Like Rust’s mouth. And proving to Rust that he didn’t intend to be anything but utterly dedicated to what they had here, now. Together.

This time, when he kissed him, there wasn’t any shock, no anger, no slap—and Danny was most grateful for that. Rust knew how to throw a slap, even when he was only ever trying to play a part for Danny. He didn’t need another one. Or want it, given what a slap would imply at this point. No, this time was much better. Rust didn’t go still against him. He responded as fully as Danny could have wanted, surging up against Danny and grabbing at the pristine white dress shirt Danny wore. If this wasn’t Rust and this wasn’t extenuating circumstances, he might have winced at the thought of so many wrinkles, but because this was Rust and these were extenuating circumstances, he merely poured more of himself into the act.

As intense as Rust got, Danny remained gentle. He slowed them where Rust would have pushed them off a precipice. Another thing about logistics guys they don’t tell you: they’ll sweep you along in their wake if you let them. They were serious and dedicated and would do their damnedest to get from point A to point B at all costs.

Point B in this case was obvious, but Danny liked to savor these things. And he liked to torment Rust.

So he pulled back and looked down at Rust with as much warmth as he could muster for him. That just made Rust rightfully suspicious. With something like certainty in his eyes, he tried to tug Danny back down. It was a good instinct to have, one that Danny could applaud even though he was determined to undermine it a little bit. Eyes dancing with mirth and mischief—he never could quite master himself away from that particular tell—he waited a moment. And then another. And just when he thought the world wouldn’t bend to his will, a knock issued against the door. Professional and courteous, it came as no surprise to Danny when the words, “Room service,” drifted through the thick wood to filter through both his and Rust’s awareness.

“Oh, you bastard,” Rust said, wriggling out from underneath him. He stood awkwardly and adjusted himself none-too-obviously and sidled toward the door. He looked back at Danny with a wicked grin on his face. Leave it to Rust to catch on quick. “I’m gonna make you pay for this.”

Danny just grinned back. “I really hope you do, Rust,” he said. “I really do.”

Danny would love nothing more.


End file.
